From Eden
by Make A Shadow
Summary: Damon Salvatore is staring because Bonnie Bennett behind the wheel of his Camaro with him in the passenger's seat is the most surreal experience of his life. And he's died. Twice.


**Title:** From Eden  
><strong>Category:<strong> The Vampire Diaries  
><strong>Genre:<strong> Friendship / Romance  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Bamon  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Damon Salvatore is staring because Bonnie Bennett behind the wheel of his Camaro with him in the passenger's seat is the most surreal experience of his life. And he's died. Twice.

**Author's Note:** I don't mean for this to be a songfic or whatever, but the lyrics fit too perfectly. Also, I initially planned a one-shot, but I'm fairly positive there will be a part two. It didn't end anywhere near how I wanted, so look out for bonus Bamon!

_From Eden _is by Hozier.

Disclaimer-ing, disclaimer-ing.

* * *

><p><em>Babe, there's something tragic about you<br>Something so magic about you_

‣‣‣

* * *

><p>"You're a hundred some odd year old vampire. Surely someone at some point in your very long life has told you staring is rude."<p>

Damon Salvatore is staring because Bonnie Bennett behind the wheel of his Camaro with him in the passenger's seat is the most surreal experience of his life. And he's died. Twice.

She's got dark sunglasses perched on her nose, a leather jacket on her shoulders, and her hand on the wheel and gear shift handling his baby like its her own.

"Damon," she drawls, a warning in her voice. His name on her tongue is what snaps him out of trance, his eyebrows raised.

"Sorry. This isn't what I expected when I said 'let's go for a drive'."

"What did you expect?"

* * *

><p><em>Babe, there's something lonesome about you<br>Something so wholesome about you_

‣‣‣

* * *

><p>He showed up on the Bennett doorstep as a suit pulled out of the driveway. Abby answered the door, her dark eyes soft yet equally guarded. She looked good, her wardrobe having taken a sharp darker turn, but would never rid her of her sallow complexion. That fact alone made Damon's gut twist. He gave her a sheepish grin, muttering a "g'morning". He couldn't remember if he ever formally apologized for that whole turning-her-into-a-vampire thing, forever cutting her off to her witch heritage and magic altogether, magic she was just starting to get access back to, and an apology now seemed too little, too late.<p>

He went to step through the threshold but was blocked. A hiss of a sigh escaped his terse lips. He hadn't been invited in, but then again, had he ever?

"House is in Bonnie's name now. This one and her Grams'. If she wants you to come in, it's up to her."

"_If_?"

With a shrug, Abby reached for her charcoal sweater and walked out past him, Bonnie appearing in the foyer.

She was Bonnie Bennett, there was no denying that, but in the same breath she wasn't. From the doorway, he knew it was her because she still held the same scent, the smell of ash like right after you blow out a candle and cider. Shadowed by the poorly lit living room, Her short hair was mussed like she woke up not long ago. She looked not skinnier but leaner, her muscles harder, but her clothes were loose fitting so Damon couldn't definitively tell.

What concerned him was the cold stare from her green eyes. It wasn't hatred or hurt or any look she'd ever given him. And four months alone with Damon was plenty of time for her glares to run the gambit of emotions. Her looking at him now across the stretch of a few yards was… dead.

He smirked.

"You gonna invite me in, Bon-Bon?"

_She's been through a lot_, he thought. _Maybe what she needs is normalcy_. _To feel like she's home and safe again. She'll start to feel better that way, more like herself._

"I'm tired, Damon."

Her hand absentmindedly went to her abdomen, her ill-fitting cotton dress billowing. Kai shot her with a crossbow the last time they were together, before the world went funny and nineteen ninety-four was a twice-distant past. He'd left her, presumably, for dead and his mind flitted to all the ways Kai could've harmed her in his absence.

He leaned against the doorframe.

"Then you can sleep on the way."

"On the way to where?"

"That's for me to know and you... ya know. Trust me, you'll love it. So let's go for a drive."

Her stare lingered, but then she turned down the hallway and out of sight.

"I'll just…wait here then."

A few minutes later, her hair was brushed with shades atop her head and she shrugged into a black leather jacket he'd never seen her wear. She strode towards him then past him, closing and locking the front door on the way.

"Are you really not going to invite me in?"

Instead of answering, she hooked her fingers around the key ring in his palm, snatching them, and headed straight for the Camaro. She slid into the driver's seat, started the car, and then looked expectantly towards him. He stood slack jawed on the porch still.

She revved the engine, which only took a tap of her foot, and he hurried down the walkway.

_She doesn't bother to invite me in and now she's taking liberties with my car. Who are you, Bonnie Bennett?_

* * *

><p><em>Babe, there's something wretched about this<br>Something so precious about this_

‣‣‣

* * *

><p>They stopped for coffee first. Well, Bonnie parked at the curb and threw a loaded glance at Damon. He peered out the window at the bustling Mystic Falls coffee shop.<p>

"Still two sugars?"

"My memory's fine from the portal jump but if _you_ need the refresher… yes."

Her voice was sharp and biting, but there was a playfulness in her eyes, peering over the frames of her sunglasses. Damon chuckled and got out of the car.

The line wasn't as long as he initially thought, and for that he was glad. He didn't want to be away from her long, partly because he just got her back and partly because he just got his Camaro back. He ordered their coffee, not bothering with flirting with the cute barista, and leaned against the counter. His attention stayed on the idling car outside. From where he stood, she was mouthing something. Both hands clutching the steering wheel. Eyes straight ahead. Thoughts of her suspicious sanity were quickly quieted by her bobbing her head.

_She's singing along to a song. Get it together, man. This is Bonnie. If any of us are going to lose our minds, she'd be last._

The barista handed Damon his order and he headed to the car when he heard it. From a block down at the entrance of the Mystic Grille, Matt Donovan congregated with Caroline Forbes and Elena Gilbert, the latter two with shopping bags in their hands.

"Is… Is that Bonnie?"

"Driving Damon's car?"

Elena turned to look, her gaze widening at the sight of the best friend who wouldn't return her phone calls before settling on Damon. A curiosity played at her face, one he'd seen before. When she couldn't understand why he wanted to rescue Bonnie, as if he needed some baser reason other than it being Bonnie who needed their help. Much like when she found out about the peace he'd instilled in Rose, suffering from a werewolf bite, before he daggered her. Or any other time he'd done something to help someone and she wasn't the immediate beneficiary of the outcome. They were constantly in a will they, won't they state and Damon had other business to attended to.

Caroline and Elena, clad in their winter coats, began walking towards the car. Their reunion with Bonnie left much to be desired and Bonnie hadn't been keen on sleepovers and gabbing with the girls as of late. Damon wagged his eyebrows at the girls and slipped into the car.

Bonnie was singing along to the tail-end of George Michael's "Faith" on the radio, adding jerking shoulders to her drumming fingers and twisting waist. Damon's mouth ticked up.

"You've got an audience."

Bonnie's attention easily found her encroaching friends and Damon could've sworn he heard a scoff rumble in her chest. Still shaking her shoulders, she reached over for her coffee, sipped it, and then pulled away from the curb, the Camaro's wheels careening down the street.

* * *

><p><em>Babe, there's something broken about this<br>But I might be open about this_

‣‣‣

* * *

><p>The "Welcome To Mystic Falls, Virginia" sign is miles behind them. Damon had watched as they advanced toward it, past it, and eyed it, growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.<p>

They haven't spoken since Bonnie left their friends in the dust. Literally. She's been plenty occupied humming along to the radio, stuck on a station with eighties and nineties hits on a loop, sipping her coffee, and swerving past cars going too slow for her liking.

But then she mentions he's been staring, and he has to pull his eyes away. This is not the girl he left behind in a world playing the tenth of May, nineteen ninety-four like a greatest hit. She's there, somewhere, but the girl pressing the gas pedal to the floor now is someone different. Not _new_. Someone who may have been buried under her layers all along.

She's… still. Stoic. She used to be wound like a goddamn top, what with bearing the stress of playing both savior and martyr. Now there's a languidness, a relaxed way about her, how she handles the car going well past the speed limit, how she nods and hums along to the radio, shame be damned. She's yet to smile, but her face is smooth, void of all the tension she carried around for so long.

He wonders what finally cracked the surface.

She rubs the back of her hand against her nose, adjusting her shades, and then rotates the dial on the radio, lowering the volume.

"You plan on telling me where we're going?"

"I could ask you the same thing. You are the one driving after all. At this rate, we'll be in Atlanta by lunchtime."

She exhales, but not of exasperation. It's just heavy, almost pensive. He tells her she'll need to take a right up ahead, their destination a little ways down that road.

"When did you become such a speed demon?"

Her eyebrows hike up but she says nothing, only turns the volume up and focuses on the stretches of pavement before them. Damon groans, wanting to kick himself for asking.

_Maybe when she drove straight for six and half hours in the hopes of going home. Fucking. Idiot._

* * *

><p><em>No tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony<br>No 'who cares', no vacant stares, no time for me_

‣‣‣

* * *

><p>"It's the middle of winter in Virginia, I'm wearing the dress I slept in and combat boots, I just returned from a sabbatical in solitary confinement with the homicidal ghost of nineties past, and you thought <em>this<em> was the perfect opportunity to have a picnic?"

Her words are sardonic, sure, but Damon knows there's a curiosity underneath them, a real desire to understand why they're stopped at some national park in the middle of nowhere.

Bonnie leans against a tree, her foot kicked back on the trunk, her shades hanging from the neckline of her dress, and her hands shoved in her pockets. She watches as he pulls a blanket out from the trunk of his car and lays it on the brown grass. He glimpses her way then smirks.

"No one told you to walk out of the house dressed like that."

He then grabs a black backpack from the car and tosses it on the blanket before strolling to where Bonnie stands.

"It's a nice day, warmer than it's been in weeks, and you've been cooped up in that house for too long. I thought you could use some fresh air. Plus, I have a surprise and I'd rather give it to you without the muss and fuss of everyone else yammering around us."

"I spent five months in a place that's always May. This isn't warm."

"Then we'll build a fire. Sound good?"

She shrugs, her attention following the cobble path to the left of the pavilion.

He'd directed her to a nature trail, but the weatherman predicts snow tonight so even the hardcore hikers are taking a day off. It's just the two of them, and that fact might've scared Bonnie before. The thought of being alone with no way away from Damon was once the setting of her nightmares. Damon knows this because he once overheard Bonnie tell this to Caroline, who threw her arm around the girl's shoulder and reminded her she's a badass witch, who can set fires with her mind. Damon Salvatore was a child throwing a temper tantrum in comparison.

Any previous anxiety is gone. Bonnie slides her thumb down her cuticles, picking until she draws blood. Then she pops her finger in her mouth and licks it clean. Bonnie is on another planet. She probably doesn't realize Damon is still there, so he thinks _small talk could help_.

He brings her up to speed on life. On Kai's trail of terror and his relation to Liv and Luke and Jo. And how Jo is Alaric's new flame, who he personally thinks won't last much longer. Their relationship and her life, it's interchangeable. The twisted tradition of the Gemini Coven. Very Hunger Games meets sharks in utero. Tyler no longer being a werewolf. Oh, Stefan playing Tyler Durden in his brother's absence. Liv Forbes is dying of a brain tumor, which vampire blood can't fix because it'll only regenerate the mutated cells, he tells her, and for a millisecond her eyes become downcast.

"Care had it too good for too long, I guess."

"What?"

She meets his eyes and there's that coldness again.

"She's the only one out of all of us with a living, breathing parent left. And this is Mystic Falls, the beacon for supernatural beings and orphaned young adults apparently. Merry fucking Christmas."

To lighten the conversation, he lets her in on how Caroline has been holding a torch for Stefan and he's been completely clueless.

Bonnie shrugs. "She's been planning their June wedding since the day they met."

Damon folds his arms across his chest. She's sufficiently nipped each conversation topic in the bud with short, arsenic laced responses. It's starting to irritate him. "Talk to me. Something's wrong."

"Something's wrong, he says," but it's more to herself than to him. "I've been stabbed, twice, terrorized, drugged, and left for dead in, of all places, Portland, Oregon. I drove clear across the country, had a full on meltdown on the Gilbert family porch, and I've been on a diet of penicillin and eighteen year old Pepsi. But, please, do continue to tell me about Alaric's love life. I'm fascinated."

The sarcasm's there. The hurt and the anger are there. But they're muted by how much she doesn't give a fuck. She does not care. Damon can tell. Her body's not into it. She should be a bundle of tense muscles ready to pounce, a predator at her prey. Her voice should be wavering and tears should be glistening in her eyes, turning rocks into gems.

Her hands remain in her pockets, and yeah, her shoulders bob and elbows fan in and out with her words, but she's the portrait of calm. She's listing facts, no emotional ties to anything.

Damon cocks his head to the side, scrutinizing her. She stares back, blinking normally, breathing evenly, her heart beating regularly. Then it hits him, a two by four in the face.

She's hopeless. As hopeless and complacent as he was believing their purgatory was his own hell and he'd never see his brother or girlfriend again. Before Kai Parker showed up and turned their world upside down. Back when he was content with living a domestic albeit perpetually celibate eternity with Bonnie Bennett.

She's his mirror image, but it's more than that.

If she were a vampire, there would be a pretty little mental switch she could've flipped. Humanity: off. But a witch without her powers is basically human, so all she's done is… disconnect. She doesn't care about their friends and their lives because they're no longer friends. Not to her. Maybe she sensed their unfounded apprehension to help get her back. Maybe she chose to toughen up because the pain of hoping got to be too much.

Compartmentalize is the name of the game. Damon would know. He perfected it.

His staring is annoying her again. He can tell by her raised eyebrows, widening eyes, and her refusal to be the one to break the stare.

"Why did you bring me out here, Damon? Huh? Small talk? If I wanted that, I would've returned Elena's phone calls. As it stands…"

"I got you a surprise."

"Where is it, then? Because I planned to camp out on my couch and catch up on hours and hours of Netflix before you showed up at my door."

Damon turns and walks to the blanket. Kneeling, he unzips the backpack to reveal Ms. Cuddles, Bonnie's teddy bear. Bonnie's hands drop from her pockets but she doesn't move from her spot. Her eyes are focused solely on the bear and, more importantly, the magic it holds.

"When you sent me away, because there was no conceivable way I would have left you there willing, I thought you dead. I thought, you with a bleeding stomach wound and a psychotic, power hungry nega-witch, was the last I'd see of you. Poof. Right out of existence. I didn't know there was a way to get back to you or get you back, so I did what I thought would honor your memory. I resumed my daily life.

"Except daily life sucked. Balls. My brother had lost all hope of ever seeing me again. My girlfriend erased every memory of any good I ever did, every bit of our relationship, left with only the bad shit I did. And yeah, I did a lot of bad shit, but I did a lot of good too. Poof. _Poof_. Gone. My best friend's got a cushy college job and a new girl. Your boyfriend seemed to have moved on in true Gilbert fashion."

"Ignoring the problem like it isn't there? Substance abuse more than likely involved?"

Damon's mouth quivers at the corners.

"Glad I'm not the only one with a pattern. The point is life went on for everyone else in some way, shape, or form and it all just felt… hollow. And wouldn't you know it? I missed you, Bonnie. I missed your voice and your eyes squinting over at me from across the dinner table. I missed getting up and fixing you pancakes. I missed beating you at Monopoly."

"Cheating at Monopoly."

"I even left you a voicemail, one you'll never hear because little Gilbert terminated your cell phone contract, but the point is I got so used to you, I didn't really know how to be without you. You're like that annoying thing on my shoulder telling me to do good things instead of bad things."

"Angel?"

"Whatever. But missing you meant I wasn't moving on and you'd want me to move on, right? That's why you didn't want anyone to know you were dead for three months, because you wanted everyone to move on, be happy. So, to _honor_ you, I tried to do just that. Maybe overcompensating a little. Haranguing Elena, who was much happier without me and memories of me, I'll tell you that. Catching up with Ric and Enzo and Stefan, but they had their own things to worry about and I was just left to think. And I thought a lot. Apparently that's how I fill my days when I'm not having sex all the time. But you know what I realized?"

Bonnie listens intently at this point, no witty remark ready on her tongue.

"I realized as judgmental and annoying and talkative you can be, you're a lot better company than most of them. You're worth more than the whole dang bunch."

"Thanks, Nick Carraway."

Damon gets to his feet, the teddy bear cradled in his arms, and slowly makes his way to over to her.

"So when I happened to be getting plastered and pouring one out for the homies in the cemetery, who happens to rear her fluffy head? None other than Ms. Cuddles. Hallelujah, Bonnie's alive! Except no one was quite as excited as I was. Beyond that, everyone thought I had some ulterior motive for wanting to bring you back. Personal guilt, to get back into Elena's good graces and, by proxy, her pants, to prove I'm still a bad guy who'll do bad things. The list goes on, trust me. It was like it was unfathomable that you were worth bringing back. On principle. Not like you weren't the reason any of us are still here in the waking world or anything. _Damon's gonna do what Damon wants to do no matter who gets hurt in the process._ Point blank. Like you aren't worth a massacre or two.

"Because that's what they kept comparing it to. Typical Damon. I compel Ric once, no one dying or being maimed in the process, and suddenly everyone makes a case about it. But if it were to done to save Elena, you think anyone would bat an eye?"

He stops in front of Bonnie. If she wanted, she could reach out and take Ms. Cuddles. She could slap him across the face or pull him into a hug. But she doesn't. She purses her lips and take in everything he's saying.

"What I'm saying is I get it. I get how you can't tell if this is the real shadow world or if nineteen ninety-four was. Because that didn't feel real until it eventually did and coming back home doesn't feel real because maybe it isn't. Maybe something's missing."

He holds Ms. Cuddles out to her and waits for her to take it. She reaches for the bear, but he pulls it out of her reach.

"I brought you your magic back because you trusted me enough to protect it. Just like Emily trusted me enough to protect her lineage. But, and I'll deny ever saying this if word gets out, you are more than your magic, Bonnie Bennett. And if you take this back and immediately go to help any of the bastards who didn't lift a finger to help you, I will personally burn down both of your houses and kick your ass. Capisce?"

Bonnie bites her cheek to keep from smiling but nods all the same. She takes Ms. Cuddles into her arms and hugs it, pressing her nose to the top of the bear's head and inhaling deeply. When she looks back up at Damon, her lips are twisted in a sheepish grin and whispers thank you. He nods, fully basking in her gratitude, and takes a step back.

"I did bring food. If you're hungry. Real food. Stefan cooked it, because let's face it. I'm no Iron Chef."

He walks backwards towards the car, his lips in a crooked smirk, and she says it.

"I'm leaving, Damon."

He stumbles over a twig but catches himself. He blinks. _I can't have heard that right._

"Come again?"

"I am leaving. I'm leaving Mystic Falls."

"You just got back."

"You gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold' em, right? My mom put my house and Gram's house in my name for, I dunno, equity, just so I'd have something. But I can't breathe in Mystic Falls. It suffocates me being there."

Not fully comprehending her thought process, he pulls a cooler from the trunk of the car and sets it down. His hands settle on his hips and he raises his shoulders.

"Mystic Falls is your home."

"And a lot of good it's done for me. I thought you, of all people, would understand."

"We just got you back, Bonnie. _I_ just got you back."

"I won't be gone forever. And I'll be a whole ten digits away in the meantime."

She pats her jacket pocket, gesturing to her new cell phone, implying if he called she would answer. But Damon shakes his head.

"Four months together and you're just going to walk away?"

"Melodramatic, much? I'm not breaking up with you, Damon. I just… My mom suggested I spend some time with Lucy in Atlanta. And in Chicago. Maybe go to New Orleans and check in with the Bennetts down there. I mean, if you think about it, the Bennetts have been instrumental in almost every major magical event in history. And yet, for some unknown reason, we're the coven with the least amount of… I don't know, connection? That's got to change. I've got to change that. _I want to change that_."

"You want to change?"

"It's either that or I end up dead again, and a third time dead, that's three times too much."

Her voice wavers there, he hears it. She's finally come to grips with death and that she doesn't like it. She shouldn't be drawn to it like she has been. Death isn't a mistress to flirt with.

"What if you went back, what if we went back? To ninety-four?"

She glares, her nostrils flaring.

"Why in the hell would I do that?"

"Think about it. Everything's free. Vacations on empty beaches. No lines, no taxes. No death, which could come in handy for you. Sure, there's no internet, but it's doesn't look like either one of us is chomping at the bit to follow Kai on Twitter."

"You called that place your hell. Why would you want to go back?"

"You said so yourself. Grams sent us there so it wasn't my hell. That particular day on repeat was just a… bizarre coincidence. But it had its charms. Plus, I really want to see Niagara Falls without the urge to push someone in. Unless you get too mouthy, then I might not be able to control myself."

Bonnie cuts her eyes, which isn't quite an eye roll, so Damon chocks that up to progress.

"You'd just disappear? On your brother? _Your_ friends?"

She doesn't have to add "Elena" because that's a given and really the question she's asking.

"I won't be dead, and alive but away from Stefan is what's best for the both of us. Enzo's taking up the charge to slowly ruin Matt's life, so that position is full."

"And…?"

"And whether in a crowded room or an empty planet, what good is a relationship if you can't be completely honest without fear of judgment?"

"Your favorite nickname for me is Judgy."

"Yeah, but… that's different. You look at the person whose neck I just ripped out and tell me to _do better._ They look at me – "

"You mean Elena."

"_Elena_ looks at me like all I am are the people I've killed. Nothing more, nothing better."

She ponders it, rubs her hand over Ms. Cuddles' furry belly. A gust of wind rolls through the trees and he wonders if she took her magic back while he wasn't looking. She hadn't, though. Things like that happen on ceremony. He's known her long enough to know that.

"You'd have to come back. Eventually. You know that."

She's still putting it on him, non-committal. He flashes his eyes at her, wags his brows, amusement playing at his mouth.

"Then _we'd_ do a little witchy-woo, abra cadabra, and voila! Home sweet home. Come on! Don't you ever get sick of saving the day?"

"Do you ever get sick of ruining the day?"

"Hel_lo_? I got you coffee and let you drive. Once upon a time, that was a perfect day to you."

She sinks her teeth into her plump bottom lip. She's considering it, Damon's certain. Then again, he exudes over-confidence and she could just be humoring him.

"How about this? We grab a polaroid camera from a thrift shop, take a week off from playing The Rescuers, hop over into nineties world, I cook you something other than pancakes, and we roadtrip around the lower forty-eight. I'll drive, you get to pick the radio stations."

"It'll take more than a week to see all those states."

"Then we raid the hospital blood banks from Miami to Maine, and we see where the wind blows us. I'll even let you stop at all the Jazzercise studios when you get car lagged."

He can't tell if she was falling for it. But her eyes are dancing, which is promising. She pushes off the tree, closing the space between them, launching into a hug. Her arms thrown around his neck, Ms. Cuddles tight in her grasp, and the side of her face pressed against his chest. He wraps his arms around her middle and pulls her closer.

"Is that a yes?"

She pulls back, her eyes going to his lips for a brief moment, and smiles. A genuine, and dare he say it, hopeful smile. Then they vibrate, Damon's phone reverberating in his pocket. He groans.

Bonnie takes her hands back to herself, while Damon fumbles with his phone. He looks down at the screen. Elena's been calling since he and Bonnie left and he's been discreetly muting the calls. She's left a few voicemails, too, but he's not up for listening to them.

He powers down his phone and when he looks up, Bonnie is kneeling on the picnic blanket. Ms. Cuddles sits facing her but Bonnie roots through the cooler. Her upturned mouth turns into a white toothed grin and she holds up her findings.

"Candles?"

"I'm nothing if not traditional."

"Bold. Faced. Lie."

She sets one, two, three white candles on the blanket, lays a lighter next to them, and relaxes on her heels with a thermos in her hands.

"More coffee?"

"Caffeine is a helluva drug, but I'm an enabler by nature."

"Here, here."

She lifts the thermos up as a toast. He stands at the edge of the blanket but doesn't sit. He watches her sip at the coffee, put it aside, and focus on the candles. She lights them with his zippo and shuts her eyes, long eyelashes brushing her wind bitten cheeks. Her hands find Ms. Cuddles and she palms the belly of the bear like she's feeling the swollen womb of a pregnant woman. Latin slips through her lips, Latin he'll one day take to understanding.

She throws her head back, eyelids fluttering, wind rushing through the trees, leaves kicking up and around his feet. Damon's jaw drops in wonder. There's no sight quite like watching a Bennett do magic. The absolute surrender to nature, how vulnerable she is when enacting a spell. He took advantage of that once, out of anger and spite. He never made that mistake again.

The candles blow out, all falls quiet, and she bows her head, chin to her heaving chest.

_Did it work?_ _Of course it worked! How many times have I underestimated her and been proven wrong?_

Her emerald eyes lift up to him and she beams.

"It worked...?"

She raises a hand, long, wiggling fingers, toward him. "Would you like to find out?"

Her grin is mischievous and if his heart could beat, it'd be hammering in his chest. He's interested but a witch induced aneurysm isn't on his to-do list today.

"I'll take your word for it."

She turns her attention to the candles and practices lighting, extinguishing, and again lighting the flames. He crouches down and waits until she turns her attention to him. It takes her a few minutes.

"Staring is going to get you in trouble, Damon."

"Maybe I want trouble."

She gives him a warning glance.

"I'm just waiting on your yay or nay, Bonnie. Mind you, I can be very persuasive, and if not persuasive enough then extremely persistent."

"You spent the better part of a century and a half chasing the ghost of the girl you loved. Tell me something I don't know," she says rhetorically, raising the thermos to her lips.

"Well, I actually don't mind supplying most of our conversations, but only because I know how much you can talk and I can hardly get a word in edgewise. I like cooking for you because I think part of you isn't used to being taken care of. You driving my Camaro is both terrifying and a total turn on. And I left you a voicemail thanking you for sending me home and apologizing because I, one hundred percent, didn't deserve your sacrifice. I left you a bunch inane ones after that, ranging from Tyler's affinity for blondes to an very insensitive joke about Jeremy and dead girls, but you'll never hear them and I just need to tell you thank you to your face. Just to know you heard me say it.

"So. Thank you."

The thermos slips from her grasp, coffee staining her dress and the blanket, rivulets soaking her thighs. Her mouth hangs open, her face littered with a myriad of emotions. She doesn't register the mess she's made. Damon and Bonnie share a charged look until she's the one to break away, dropping her eyes to her wet lap.

"Can you take me home please?"

Her voice is timid, the words almost carried away on the wind before they reach Damon's ears. His brain scrambles for a reason for the shift, what made her retreat back into herself. Fighting her won't help, he knows this. If he tries to ply her out, she'll crawl further inside, put up a steel door, build a moat.

Instead, he nods. She grabs Ms. Cuddles while he packs up. He stuffs everything in the trunk then lays the blanket on the passenger seat for her to sit on. She settles in and he shuts the door behind her.

She doesn't turn on the radio, so it's a silent drive back to Mystic Falls. He wants to apologize a thousand times for whatever stupid thing he said, but they fall short on his tongue every time. He tells himself she's probably embarrassed that she looks like she wet herself, he probably scared her off by his blatant honesty. They're always honest with each other, brutally so. That can't have changed. When they cross into city limits, he wants to reach over and grasp her hand, her fidgeting fingers, but his hand stays glued to the gear shift. They both ignore his white knuckles. The only sound is the purr of the engine and the whistle of wind outside the car.

The weatherman was a few hours off, because snow begins to fall as he pulls alongside the curb in front of Bonnie's house. They melt the instant they land on the windshield, but it'll stick later. Neither pay any attention to the snow, though. With the car idling, Damon shifts in the driver's seat, one arm resting on the steering wheel, the other around the back of the seat, and returns to staring at Bonnie. She refuses to meet his gaze, her head cocked toward her door.

He tells her she can take the cooler. Stefan had cooked especially for her, but he couldn't tell her how to pronounce half of the ingredients. He tells her not to worry about the spill or the blanket. He'll clean it up. The tips of her fingers sink into Ms. Cuddles fur, so he knows he's pushing too much.

"Bonnie, if I said something, if I did something to make you upset… I'm sorry."

From his very core, his voice radiates sincerity. If she could be compelled, he'd grab her by her chin, convince her he was truly sorry, and ask what she wanted him to do to fix it, how to make her feel better. What did he have to do to right every wrong he'd ever done to her? How many more wrongs would he have to execute and against whom?

She does finally look his way, her teeth biting into her cheek. He can smell the blood. Her eyes explore every part of his face. The bridge of his nose, the way his disheveled hair hangs across his forehead, the prominence of his brow bones hooded over his eyes when he's trying to convey something serious, his lips always ready to kiss and be kissed, and then his dilated pupils boring into her.

Damon does the same, taking in her every feature. Her off kilter jaw, which was once another reason to hate the little witch and now is one of his favorite parts of her. Her long lashes curling towards heaven, her dewy complexion, her laughs lines which have become less and less pronounced. He wants to look lower but this isn't the time and the air is already thick with tension.

He opens his mouth, not sure what he'll say but needing to say something anyway, but Bonnie's eyes drop to half-mast and her fingers find the door handle. Her name bubbles up his throat, slithers down his tongue, and pushes past his lips but she's out of the car and striding to the porch. Damon watches her stuff her hand in her pocket to retrieve her keys, Ms. Cuddles dusting the porch floor, watches as she unlocks the door, as she enters her house and shuts the door behind herself. Not even permitting a glance back at him.

* * *

><p><em>Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago<br>Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on it's sword  
>Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know<br>I slithered here from Eden just to hide outside your door_

‣‣‣


End file.
